


Nights Like Those

by leopardprintpants



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood and Injury, Knifeplay, Light BDSM, Masochist reader, Multiple Orgasms, Murder, Other, Painplay, Sadist Ford, Sweet/Hot, What does that tag even mean what, Whatever Ig, Yandere, Yandere Ford, no pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:37:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9626645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopardprintpants/pseuds/leopardprintpants
Summary: There are nights where your love is shown through soft kisses and gentle hands, nights where you take their time to please one another.Then there are nights where blood stains your lips and blades of knives sunken into others cut through your waiting flesh.You love those nights with him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Am I sinning? Yes. Do I feel dirty and ashamed? Yes. Do I want to stop? ... No.
> 
> Based off of this post: http://typona.tumblr.com/post/156314306527/hello-there-i-really-really-like-your-art-and-i
> 
> A bit short, but I hope you enjoy!

On nights like those, he took my breath away.

Nights when he would be working late into the night, nearly dropping his pen at the sudden feeling of my arms wrapping around his shoulders. Nights when I would press my lips to his ear, whispering sweet compliments and rewards to his flustered form, promises of wonderful, shared sensations if he took a break before I slept.

Ford would allow me to glide my hands over his neck and along his smooth jawline to underneath his chin, a tired grin coming across both of our faces as I tilted his head to place an upside-down kiss on his lips. He would reach up a hand to run six fingers through my hair, slowly, lovingly, as our lips danced against each other in a soft exchange of affection.

We would slowly pull apart, catching our breaths. Our hands would leave each other--only for a moment, never longer than a needy moment--as I'd step back to allow the genius to slide his chair from his desk to stand. He'd turn and I'd be there and our mouths would continue their slow dance all the way into the bedroom.

Those nights, we would take our time to undress one another. Soft hands glided over wide shoulders and a firm back while larger hands, calloused by many pens as they wrote and the physical labor of lifting books and traps and cages and weapons, explored and re-explored areas no other man has had the pleasure of seeing, much less feeling.

Those nights, quiet moans and pants and whines and whimpers filled the air. Steady thrusts sent waves of pure pleasure up my spine, giving each of us the experience of orgasms creeping up on before cresting slowly, steadily. Our backs would arch as he filled me, my lover's groans giving me that much more satisfaction.

Those nights, he would clean the both of us up before making sure I was comfortable and leaving the room with one last goodnight kiss.

I love those nights... but the other nights we spend together?

The other nights, when I lay alone in our bed, shaking as the fearful, dying screams of those who dared to pursue me reach our home. I would tremble there, struggling to balance myself on legs that threatened to give out at any second. The pained screams would die off and I knew only we had heard them.

The other nights, when I'd turn the knob of our bedroom door and creak it open just as the resounding sounds of his heavy footsteps entered through the main threshold. I'd peer around the doorframe to catch a glimpse of his too-relaxed figure, clothes and skin splattered with fresh blood, a sharp knife in his hand dripping the red substance onto the wooden floors.

He would continue to approach our room and I would hide near the doorway, still shaking out of excitement and arousal as Stanford stepped through. Once he did, I'd throw my arms around him and force my eager lips onto his, which were split and bleeding from the resistance his victims sometimes put up. Out of reflex, he would bring the knife up, slicing through my nightgown and drawing blood.

He would gasp and I would moan, although he'd recover quickly and bring the sharp blade behind him to wipe it off on the cloth of his coat before bringing it forward again so could hold me close. He would roughly push me backwards and push me away so I sprawled onto the bed. He'd watch my chest heave as I caught my breath and licked my lips.

Ford's blood was _intoxicating_.

I'd willingly spread my legs for him as he took my legs into a bruising grip to lift them up and slide my body to the edge of the bed. Expertly, he'd remove his leather belt and tie it tightly around my bare wrists before forcing my hands over my head. The whole time, his grip on the knife would never loosen, leaving welcome cuts and scratches on my skin.

He would cut my underwear clean off my abdomen, tossing the ruined cloth out of sight. My gaze would never leave the weapon in his hands, not even when he'd pull his pants down enough to free himself enough to sink into me without a warning. Our groans would fill the eager silence between us even though he wouldn't move his hips at all.

Pleads and whines would leave me as he dragged the flat side of the weapon over my stomach. When he was satisfied with my begging, he would use the sharpened edge of the blade to trace above my collarbone and I would mewl in thanks as my warm blood slowly, tantalizingly dripped down the side of my neck. He would grin and hum when he leaned down to flick his tongue against the cuts, taking great pleasure as I squirmed beneath him.

The feeling of his mouth sucking on the wounds he inflicted on my clouded my mind and I would let out a squealing moan as I spasmed. My walls would tighten around him and I'd gasp his name as I came. The sting of him slicing my wrist dangerously close to my artery caught my attention and this time he moaned as I saw him being my arm up to suck on the bleeding cut.

Ford would eventually bring the knife up to my already throbbing neck, holding it there as he pistoned into me ferociously. My cries of euphoria were heightened by the sense of danger that came with a frantically moving man keeping a blade near me, threatening my life in a delicious way. When he'd cum inside of me and I'd reach my second sudden orgasm, long-lasting waves of agonizing pleasure crashing down onto us, we'd cling close to one another, letting our sweat mix and our skin stick together.

Then he'd push the knife a bit further into my neck, piercing the skin as he whispered statements of ownership and love and protection in a husky voice that tore another small wave of my peak from me along with a desperate moan. At this, my lover would take the knife away, tossing it over the side of the bed and ignoring the muffled sound it made upon impact with the carpeted floor. He would kiss me and we would spend another while lost in the throes of passion.

On nights like those, he took my breath away.

**Author's Note:**

> I fell in love with this idea <3 This may very well be the only character I'll write yandere stuff about (if I ever continue to write yandere things, that is)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, I hope this stupid one shot was worthwhile! No dialogue just bc it's kind of late and I'm kind of lazy. Hope it wasn't unpleasant!
> 
> Psst, if you want to be able to see updates for my stuff on your Instagram feed, please feel free to follow me! @absolutelyinsignificant


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